The Five Stages
by amarx17
Summary: "Kurt's life with Sebastian wasn't perfect, because no healthy relationship was, but it was perfect for them. They were happy and loved each other more than anything. But this...this wasn't real. It was a lie." Rated for language, character death, and a shitload of angst.


**Title:**_ The Five Stages_  
**Author: **_amarx17 - Marx_  
**Rating:**_ R (FRM – Mature)_  
**Word Count: **_7,215_  
**Pairing(s):**_ Sebastian/Kurt (Kurtbastian)_  
**Warnings:**_ Language, character death, and a shitload of angst._  
**Summary:**_ Kurt's life with Sebastian wasn't perfect, because no healthy relationship was, but it was perfect for them. They were happy and loved each other more than anything. But this...this wasn't real. It was a lie._  
**Author's Note:**_ This is based off the K__ü__bler-Ross Model, about the five stages of grief. I'm also not even sure where this came from. Mostly therapeutic for me, since I've gone through parts of this myself. And I'm pretty sure that my husband went through this during my diagnoses (though my prognosis wasn't terminal but my mental health wasn't). Close to the heart, and maybe it's some kind of closure.__ Also: unbeta'd.  
_

_–_

_**The Five Stages  
**__amarx17_

_–_

_One  
__Denial_

_–_

Kurt loved Sebastian with all his heart.

It wasn't perfect_ — _they fought, they stormed out of their shared flat, they threw things, and sometimes they even threatened bodily harm towards the important bits. However, it was perfect for them, always. They always made up from their fights, came back home, went shopping for more plates and cups, and kissed all over each other's body to appreciate and treasure them. It wasn't perfect, because no healthy relationship was, but they were happy and loved each other more than anything.

But this...this wasn't real. It was a lie.

Sebastian was thirty-one. _Thirty-one_. This wasn't right, wasn't normal, wasn't _fair_. He was thirty-one, with his entire life ahead of him and this _wasn't_ happening. Someone was lying through their teeth, or had gotten the paperwork messed up with someone else's. The headaches were just headaches, because everyone got headaches. The one that Sebastian had been suffering from was just a particularly stubborn migraine, that was all. Surely they just did the tests wrong, had messed it up, because it was ridiculous.

Just a few weeks ago, they had taken a leisurely stroll down the beaches of the Philippines. They had held hands while watching the sunset, sharing affectionate insults and pushing each other into the water when one of them least expected it. Just a days ago, Sebastian had finally — _finally_ — accepted Kurt's proposal to get married. They had been together since Kurt's first year of university, thirteen years previous, and Kurt had asked him three years later. He had waited _ten_ _years_ for Sebastian to say yes, to cross that last barrier into legality instead of just their hearts and souls. Just to say they were under the name of the law. Sebastian carried Kurt's entire being in his hands already, but saying '_I Do_' was something else entirely, not necessary but worth everything.

"No," Kurt said calmly, none of his angry denial leaking through his carefully controlled tone, "you're mistaken. Either you mixed up the paperwork or you've fucked up the tests. Do them again, and _right_ this time."

It wasn't true. Sebastian was insatiable, and incorruptible, and incalculable, and invaluable, and indefectible, and simply _Sebastian_. The idea was absurd and completely impossible, because Sebastian was probably going to outlive Kurt himself. He _had_ to. Kurt couldn't live without him in his life, and maybe that was selfish and dramatic but Kurt _loved_ his fiancé — Kurt _fiancé_, and how utterly perfect it was to call him that _finally_ — more than he loved himself.

They were going to get married and maybe, just maybe, Sebastian would agree to have kids sometime in the near-distant future. Or even the far-distant future, as Kurt wasn't going to push Sebastian to do something that Kurt was admittedly still a bit wary about himself. Pushing was not going to help matters, because Sebastian needed time to wrap his head around commitment issues.

"We've ran the results three times, Kurt. I'm so sorry, but this is the truth. It isn't pretty and it isn't kind, but with your cooperation and support, we can make the last few months of Sebastian's life comfortable and—"

"Do it again and let me see my fiancé, you sonofabitch," Kurt snarled, angry and pink in the face. His hands were clenched into fists, his manicured nails tearing eight crescent-shaped cuts into the palms. The pain grounded him, fuelled the anger to an appropriate source, namely one idiot doctor and her shoddy results. He would pout at the damage later, when all of this was sorted out and Sebastian was kissing his palms, looking up at him with glittering green eyes.

Sebastian wanted to get married in Italy, Kurt in France. They had been lightly arguing about it already, Sebastian complaining about France smelling terrible and Kurt adamantly refusing to be married outside of civilisation (Sebastian loved vineyards, wanted to live on one in the future even though Kurt was convinced he himself would only love the city life). Knowing the two of them, they'd get married in some country _other_ than Europe. Probably Mexico on the beaches but maybe in America. Either way, there would probably be a huge thing in all of the papers — Kurt might've compromised on the big, dream wedding, but it wasn't going to be a small affair either; he could get married in Vegas and the paparazzi would still lurk like cockroaches.

Kurt turned on his heel and left the hallway, back to Sebastian's room. He was sitting in the bed, staring at the wall of the examination room as if he was looking through it, or wasn't even seeing at all. There was a blank expression on his face, his hands lax in his lap and his posture straight and proper like customary. The headache that he had had for the past few days didn't seem to register at all in the face of the false news.

"He's wrong, you know," Kurt said as he gently shut the door behind him. "They got the test results wrong or something, I think. I mean, it's just completely ridiculous. It's a _headache_, nothing more. I've told them to do the tests again and to give us the right information."

Sebastian didn't say anything, or even acknowledge that Kurt had come into the room. Kurt didn't mind — he probably still thought that the doctor was telling the truth via facts instead of a lie based on misinformation. Kurt simply advanced on Sebastian and grasped a warm hand, threading his fingers through Sebastian's long ones and laying a head on his fiancé's shoulder.

For a long time they sat there, until the doctor came back and assured them, once again, that the test results didn't lie. They had pictures to prove it the second time, too.

They went home, made a simple vegetarian dinner, made love slowly and oh so sweetly, and then for the first time in Kurt Hummel's life he heard the love of his life cry.

–

Two  
_Anger_

–

Kurt wasn't ready.

Cancer was such a final thing, such a dark and heavy thing, so thick and all-encompassing. It took Kurt's breath away just thinking about it, something hot and furious burning in his chest at the idea even coming into his thoughts. Unfortunately he thought about it all of the time, and he tried so, _so_ hard to keep from snapping at others for something that couldn't be controlled, but he _couldn't_ stop.

Sebastian hadn't been admitted to hospital after the glioblastoma multiforme had been diagnosed. They both had come to an agreement that there was nothing the doctors could do, nothing the oncologists could ever hope to accomplish. Surgery was useless, considering the _ridiculous_ size of the tumour and location. Chemotherapy wafers were going to be implanted via surgery in two day's time, and he had started radiation the day after his diagnosis.

It had taken two days to come to that agreement though, after he had already started five terrible, unnecessary fights.

The first time had been with the doctor about surgery. The brain was fragile, insanely important, and didn't have a very good repairing system when it was damaged, taking forever to heal. However, Sebastian had a tumour the size of a small _orange_ in the front of his head, increasing inter-cranial pressure and completely taking over the brain itself with mass-reproducing cells. The idea of _not_ performing surgery was absurd, because without surgery Sebastian wouldn't last a month.

Sebastian had trusted the doctor and his diagnosis, which was a mistake _regardless_ of Franchoit being Sebastian's friend and co-worker. However, Kurt thought it was all fucking _stupid_. Franchoit was wrong because doing _nothing_ was idiotic and she wasn't even giving Sebastian a _chance_. Sebastian was wrong because he wasn't even _trying_ to live, just accepting the fact that he was going to die without even making an _attempt_ to stay alive, if even solely for Kurt's sake. They shot off some bullshit about the surgery paralysing him at best and killing him on the table at worst, but Kurt wouldn't have any of it.

Sebastian was going to _die_ from this, he was going to _leave_ Kurt because God or whatever the fuck was out there was an evil sonofabitch with no heart or conscious. He was going to waste away until the pressure inside his skull killed him and then Kurt was going to be alone, without the love of his life and his fiancé there by his side. Kurt was going to have to watch Sebastian fade away before his very eyes, and _doing nothing was just as wrong as the cancer was_.

The first time had been with the doctor, about surgery, but the second fight had been with Sebastian himself.

Sebastian had yelled right back at Kurt, both of them not playing around. It wasn't like their other fights, half-hearted or teasing or even sincere but so obviously faulted. Kurt _hated_ Sebastian in that moment, as his green eyed fiancé sat on that hospital bed, waiting for his second radiation treatment. He had hated that Sebastian obviously didn't care enough for Kurt to even _try._

The tiny voice in the back of his traitorous mind pointedly ignored the fact that Sebastian was a surgeon, that he knew what he was talking about, that he knew his odds with and without surgery and he had made an educated decision according to it all.

That he knew that his quality of life after surgery was going to be astronomically poor if he even managed to _survive_ the surgery, and he didn't want his last days alive on the Earth to be riddled with paralysis or panic or pain.

It didn't make him hate Sebastian any less in that moment.

The third fight had been directed at Rachel immediately after, when he had collapsed inside of her home in Jersey, angry and miserable after the insanity that had just taken place with Sebastian. She had asked him what was wrong and he had completely exploded, wanting to be left alone and wanting to take out _everything_ on _everyone_. He had screamed about Rachel's self-entitled superiority, and her stupid talent, and how she had been a shitty friend to Kurt, and how she had never accepted Sebastian and Kurt as a couple or even as friends, which she hadn't. Kurt had hated _her_, and how she cared about her stupid boyfriend more than she did her friendship with Kurt himself. God, Kurt had let her _have_ it like he had never had it before, and then had stormed out after bellowing something about her problems being stupid in comparison, because Sebastian had _terminal brain cancer_ and all she had to complain about was not having a Tony yet or Jeremy being a prick.

Then it had been his dad, who Rachel had called in tears after that confrontation. Kurt had ignored the calls for hours, walking down the streets of New York absently and with denial and anger simmering in his blood, but then he had answered. His father, innocent and trying to help, had tried to speak to him. Kurt had said, "_Sebastian and I are getting married, Dad. I want to get married in France, but he wants to get married in Italy. Maybe we'll get married in California, on the beaches of San Diego, or maybe in Cabo. We like Cabo, Dad._"

His father had said gently, "_Sebastian says that_—"

That was as far as Burt had gotten.

When Kurt had hung up his father by throwing his cell against a wall — _yeah, Sebastian calls _you_, you talk to _Sebastian_...fuck the world and fuck _you_ too, because you don't know what it's like, because Mom was alive one day and dead the next, and you didn't have to watch her waste away as she did _nothing_ to save herself like Sebastian's doing to me right now...don't pretend like you understand me, because you've never understood me; I'm the queer _girl_ that was never fucking _good_ enough for you and your stupid macho manly _bullshit_ that you got to giggle with Finn about like it was a fucking _party_ Dad_ — he had stormed out of the house in a fury, angry at himself for everything he had said while out of control.

His last fight had been with a taxi taking him from Jersey back to Manhattan. Kurt wasn't even sure how he had started that one, only that it had been rather vocal and a police officer standing close to Kurt's drop-off location overheard.

His first time in jail hadn't been that bad, to be honest. He had expected thugs and prostitutes and drunks and people who had hurt others, and perhaps the people there _had_ done those things, but Kurt hadn't known. Most of them were sleeping or brooding gloomily, no one talking much or sleeping it off.

It probably would've been better if the anger hadn't faded.

–

Three_  
Bargaining_

–

For the first time in Kurt Hummel's life, he went willingly to confessional.

The church he had chosen had been a smaller Catholic one, not one of the disgustingly massive ones that pissed him off. Well, the smaller one did piss him off, but he was too desperate for _anything_ to let it register.

He walked into the church, the pews mostly empty and only a few black-cloaked figures mingling about. He took in the elaborate design, the beauty of the architecture and art while he noted the death scenes littered about. He never understood what people saw in putting a depiction of a dead man on their walls — perhaps in their church, but certainly not in a home. It freaked him out in a way, but since he didn't believe in God and never _had_, perhaps he was simply ignorant.

He put two fingers into the stoup and made the Sign of the Cross, a mechanical gesture that he still remembered despite his mother being long gone. He walked slowly and quietly walked towards the separate room that held confessional, blinking when he saw that the overhead indicator was red. He held a hand across his ear as he past the doorway, out of respect, and sat in a near-by pew, waiting and thinking and hating.

When the light turned green and the person left, a faceless shape that Kurt did not look at, he stood up and entered in the room silently without a hint of hesitation. He opted out of sitting face-to-face, instead kneeling at the screen and waiting for the priest.

When he heard an adjoining door open and a shrouded figure sit on the other side of the screen, Kurt found himself holding his breath and making the Sign of the Cross again, unconsciously and almost too fast. In a soft, masculine murmur, the priest said, "May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy."

Kurt whispered automatically from memory, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, my last confession was too long ago to consciously remember."

The priest murmured, "Confess your sins, child."

Kurt let out the remainder of his stale breath of air and took a moment to breathe deeply. Then, bluntly like was customary, he confided in a quiet voice, "I am gay. I am aware that this is a sin against God, but I have learnt to embrace this about myself since I cannot control it nor do I want to at this point in my life. I have been in a committed relationship with a man for thirteen years, monogamous in nature but by no means as determined by God so therefore I have committed these sins as they are called so many times that listing them would be a waste of both of our time.

"I am an atheist," Kurt continued, in the same soft tone. "I do not believe in God, nor do I believe I ever have even since I was a young child. This, of course, means that I have continuously denied His existence, for I do not believe in Him. I have consistently been judged, despite God saying in the Bible that this is wrong, for my homosexuality and I have seen more hate from the Church than I have from any other establishment. This, in essence, makes me a blasphemer as well, as I have also consistently talked of God in anger, reproach, and ill-will. I don't hold any hatred towards Him, for He cannot control his minions any more than I can control my friends due to free will or whatever it is called, but I am _not_ a believer nor will I _ever_ be."

He breathed slowly for a second, not really caring how the priest was reacting. "I don't come to Mass every Sunday, nor do I respect the Sabbath. I work every Sunday, as does my fiancé, when the situation demands it. Furthermore, I _have_ watched pornography even if I don't have much of a taste for it, but it has been often enough that again, it would be pointless to list all of the times and whom I've watched it with. And believe in me, I've masturbated because it's scientifically healthy for the human body to do so."

He paused for a moment and then added, "Confessing every venial sin would take ages, and to be honest I'll probably never remember all of them at once. Regardless, I am not perfect, nor do I ever want to be because perfect is boring, but I have tried to do everything in my power to be a good person, kind to others and respectful of anyone who shows me respect. I have honoured my mother and father, my country and its laws, and I will continue to do so."

There was a long moment of silence, as if the priest wasn't sure if Kurt was finished, before he asked honestly, "Then why have you come to Confession, if you have not reconciled for your sins nor regret making them?"

Kurt didn't speak himself for a long time. Then he said in a whisper, "My fiancé is dying. Glioblastoma multiforme. He won't last a month without brain surgery but he refuses to have it done. He's a surgeon that saves the lives of children, you see, and he doesn't want to risk the last month of his life with a few months of pain and paralysis and maybe even severe retardation because he knows what'll happen if he does the surgery. And I don't know what to do. I've alienated everyone in my life because I was just so _angry_ at Sebastian, because I said some things to my friends and family that might've been true inside of me but had no business being said out loud. And I just...I just need someone to talk to, Father."

Kurt could hear the priest breathing, feeling out Kurt's statement, and then he said, "Oh child, I'm so sorry."

Normally when people apologised for things that were out of their control, Kurt grew angry. Why should they be sorry? How redundant was that, for crying out loud? Kurt had reason to be sorry, and the person who had committed the act should've been sorry, but not people that had nothing to do with it. He hated that, the pity and everything that came with it, because he wasn't some helpless doll that was filled with problems to be pitied. He wasn't a child, and he wanted to be treated like he could fix or deal with his own problems.

This was different.

Kurt wasn't angry this time, hearing a total stranger say it. He simply wasn't this time. He felt a sharp stab of pain and anguish, because it really _was_ something for the world to be sorry for. Sebastian was an irritating, pompous, sarcastic smart arse, but he was also beautiful, and compassionate, and intelligent, and a thousand other things that made him who he was. To have that life snuffed out by his own mutated cells, by his own body, was such a fucking travesty that it took Kurt's breath away in the worst way imaginable. It was only justified for others to feel that pain, because everyone would be effected, even people who didn't even know him. The entire world was connected in some way, through other people and technology, and they _should've_ felt sorry for the incoming death of one of the greatest men Kurt had ever had the utmost pleasure to know.

"Me too," Kurt breathed, and he started to cry.

He heard the priest stand up and felt warm arms wrap around his kneeling form. Kurt wept into the black cloak of the priest like a child, took comfort from the stranger that whispered words that Kurt couldn't understand, and simply fell apart.

"Please," Kurt choked out through his uncontrollable sobbing. "Please, I'll do anything. If God will just save him I'll do anything. I'll go to Mass, I'll believe in miracles because it will be a miracle, I'll do _anything_ Father. I'll even leave him. I'll marry a woman, have a few kids, get a respectable job — I'll learn to love her, love my new self, if only God will save him. Father, I can't live in a world without him in it, and even if I have to erase myself and never see the man I love again, I'll gladly do it. I'll take the cancer in a heartbeat, _anything_. I just—_I can't live without him_, God, _please_ save him."

He expected in his half-crazed mind for the priest to start preaching loudly about God having a plan for Sebastian in Heaven — Hell, more likely, because loving another human being with the same sexual organs as their own was a sin against God and how fucked up was _that_ — but the priest didn't. Instead, he said quietly, "Everyone dies. It's unfortunate, and it's not fair, and even _I_ hate God for putting good people in Heaven when there are some people in this world that deserve death a lot more. It's downright disgusting that people like your Sebastian, someone who has done nothing but help people live and has given you his heart while safeguarding your own, should have to leave this world. It's disgusting that you should have to live in this world without the person you love, even if I myself don't agree with your lifestyle.

"But everyone dies, child. It's one of those cold, hard facts of life that can't be broken, can't be evaded, and will never stop no matter how technologically advanced we get in the future. Eventually, after lives that are short or long or good or evil, they all go away, and they leave behind people that are forced to live without them. And it's wrong that we have to.

"You're so young, much too young to know the bitter loss that comes with the death of a loved one. But it's a part of life and the sooner you comprehend that, the sooner you'll be able to do your fiancé justice. You'll be able to live your life afterwards in a way that would make your Sebastian happy. He'll be able to look down on you from Heaven if that's really what comes after this life and he'll be able to smile, because you'll be broken, yes, but you'll be alive for the both of you. He'll be able to watch you and know that he made his chapter in your life worth the rest of your days, that _it was worth every single moment_ despite the pain it brought."

And Kurt, in the middle of a Catholic confessional wrapped in a priest's arms on the floor, wept and wept and wept because it _was_ worth every moment.

Every single one.

–

Four  
_Depression_

–

Kurt caressed his fiancé's face as he slept.

Unlike a lot of people, Sebastian looked older when he was sleeping. That hadn't changed with the cancer, even though it was more pronounced. Sebastian was happy, and Kurt could see that in his face every day, but when he slept the demons from their past came to haunt him.

The reminder of what had happened with David, even though the three of them with David's husband were still ridiculously close since the suicide attempt and had dinner together at least once a week. The reminder of how Sebastian's mother and father had treated him after Sebastian had stopped being discreet about his flounderings and decided to be with Kurt unconditionally, which had been enough to scar even Kurt's psyche despite barely knowing the fuckers (and not ever _wanting_ to know them). The reminder that he had helped Kurt just a bit with Kurt's self-depreciating nature until Sebastian had forced Kurt to realise that he was beautiful despite his faults. The reminder that no matter how much he had done for the world with his medical practise, his generosity towards people in need, and his relationship with Kurt, he was still going to die and there was nothing he could do to change that.

There was so much more than that too, but some things were more psychologically damaging and prioritised over the menial.

Sebastian looked so much older, much more haunted, and it broke Kurt's heart every day to see it. Kurt wanted to take his pain away, wanted to take all of the bad and insert it into himself just so Sebastian could be peaceful in his dreams, but life was too cruel to allow Kurt the opportunity, just like life was too cruel to give Sebastian the opportunity to _live_.

Kurt didn't want to live in a world that didn't include the love of his life though. He didn't know how he was going to survive when the man who had given him the most perfect existence was going to be gone forever. He didn't want to live without his light, his other half, his Sebastian.

After his mother had died, life hadn't seemed right without her. The colours hadn't seemed so bright, the taste of food had diminished greatly, the heat of the sunshine on his face had felt painful and wrong. Everything had died a bit in his world, and only when Carole and Finn had come into their home with their carefree natures and lovely personalities had it regained a portion of its vibrancy. Then he had lived with that breath of less-tainted air until Blaine had entered his life, and some more of the brightness had regained.

And then _Sebastian_. Sebastian, who had tried to get Blaine and then had realised that Kurt was worth fighting for. Sebastian, who had become Kurt's friend during his last year of high school despite their shaky past. Sebastian, who had infiltrated the hazed life that Kurt had been living with a figure so bright that it had hurt when the vibrancy had returned full-force. Sebastian, who had finally kissed him with everything he had in the lights of a Columbus fireworks show during the summer. Sebastian, who had said that he would fight to the death for Kurt's heart despite having sworn an oath to himself to never get hurt by the means of love again.

Sebastian had awoken his world, had brought Kurt back to life.

Kurt's mother had died and left a gaping hole that would always be there, but Sebastian was the centre of his life now. Not his father, who he would love and cherish until the end of his days. Not his job in fashion, something that took Kurt's breath away through the sheer creativity and beauty that he got to imagine on a day-to-day basis. Not Rachel, who was living out their Broadway fantasies for the both of them because Kurt had found his passion through design. Not Finn, who was married to a good woman and had three darling children that Kurt got to spoil rotten whenever he could get away with it.

The centre of his life was Sebastian Smythe, and Kurt couldn't live without his life gone.

He didn't want to imagine what the world would be like without Sebastian. The colours, which inspired Kurt's profession and made the world beautiful, would be gone. Music would be sour and agonising, because Sebastian wouldn't be there to tease his music tastes and sing along with the radio when he agreed with Kurt's choice of song. Food would be tasteless and bland since Sebastian and Kurt wouldn't be in the kitchen together, throwing flour at each other and arguing over what they wanted for dinner good-naturedly, feeding each other small bits of their meals and teasingly flicking the other bits at each other when they weren't looking. Life would be cold, because Sebastian wasn't there to wrap Kurt in his arms and make love to him with such ardent abandon that he could keep the chill at bay.

What was the point?

Resting his hand on Sebastian's bare chest, against the strong beating of his heart, Kurt knew that despite the pain, despite the loss, despite that there would be no reason to live after Sebastian's strong heartbeat stilled in death, he would never kill himself.

Despite the fact that he would see Sebastian again because he would rise up from the grave and bitch-slap Kurt from New York to Timbuktu. Twice.

Kurt would never kill himself because Sebastian would never forgive him for it. His father would never forgive him. His friends and family would never forgive him. David would never forgive him. And he would never be able to forgive _himself._

Sebastian moved under his palm, pushing himself against Kurt's body more snugly like he did when the dreams got to be too much. Simultaneously, he heard a knock at the door.

With the smallest kiss upon Sebastian's brow, he got out of bed lethargically. He hadn't been able to sleep for two weeks, since Sebastian's diagnosis, and he was more than ready to sleep forever after Sebastian left the world. Until then, though, he had to spend every moment he could possibly manage awake with Sebastian, because he wouldn't get another chance. After death, there was nothing, and the last days were so important because he would never be able to see Sebastian again.

Insomnia was worth it.

He made his way slowly to the living area of their flat in New York, dragging his feet. There was another knock before he could get to the door, but thankfully it wasn't too loud so it wouldn't wake Sebastian up. He had been sleeping terribly, the pain in his head keeping him awake even more-so than the dreams had, and Kurt wanted him to get a few hours at least so he wouldn't simply pass out from exhaustion.

'_It's still better than the surgery though_,' Sebastian had assured him. '_I wouldn't be the same person if I had done it, if I would've even survived it. My memory would've been damaged, my personality would've been altered, and I wouldn't have even been able to recognise different things. I probably would've been paralysed. I want to be able to look at you and smile, to touch your face and remember why I loved that little place behind your ear that you love when I kiss it. I want to be able to explore your body for the last months of my life and show you how much I love you, Kurt, because dear God I love you so much that it fucking hurts that I won't be able to watch you grow old with me._'

He looked through the peep hole and saw David Karofsky.

He opened the door silently and smiled lightly at one of his best friends, feeling content when that smile was returned. He immediately opened up his arms and accepted the hug that David gave him in the doorway, burying his nose in David's neck and gripping onto him for dear life. He loved David's hugs in a way that he loved no one else's, probably because David was so big and strong and warm that it just felt safe.

If someone had told him in high school that David's hugs made him feel safe, he probably would've have choked out a kidney in laughter.

Now he just took advantage of the cuddles that drove Sebastian and Mikey nuts.

"Hey, Fancy," David mumbled, the vibration of it driving clean through Kurt's thin body, and Kurt smiled against David's neck.

"Hey Ham-hock," Kurt replied, just as softly.

David pulled away, grasped Kurt by the shoulders, and looked him straight in the eye. With an air about him that spoke of desperation and pleading, he said in a low voice, "Don't kill yourself."

Kurt started to cry.

David wrapped him into his arms again as Kurt began murmuring through his tears, "I would _never_ do that to you or to any of my friends and family, and I would never do that to myself. I _won't_. I'll _never_ leave you, David, or my dad, or my nieces and nephews, and I wouldn't dare do that to Sebastian. Please, don't you _ever_ think that I would do that to you."

"I know, I know. You're so strong, Kurt, but I just wanted to make sure. I don't want to lose you, and I can't even imagine what I would do if I was losing Mikey, because I'm not as strong as you and I couldn't—"

"Don't, David. Don't talk like that," Kurt said frantically, holding David even closer than before. He could practically feel David's heartbeat through his pyjamas and David's suit, and the platonic heat between them was comforting and simply alive. "We're going be here forever, living our lives, even though I can't promise that I'll be okay after Sebastian's... But I'm not going anywhere, David, and don't you ever forget that."

An hour later, after crying against each other like children, they settled in the living room.

Kurt had made them both warm milk, something that Kurt still did when he needed to settle down and reminiscence or talk. It was fashioned with vanilla, sugar, and nutmeg, because just plain milk needed to be cold, and the two of them curled up in the living room quietly as to not wake Sebastian.

"I wish I had gotten him to the doctor sooner," Kurt said, cupping his mug in his hands. The warmth crept into his hands slowly, but the heat didn't really register because the rest of his body was so cold. "If I had taken him to Franchoit earlier, it would've been smaller and they could've safely done the surgery and the chemo. I mean, recurring headaches aren't normal anyway, and if I had just convinced Sebastian to get it checked out in the beginning then this wouldn't be happening."

"Don't do that to yourself, Kurt," David said, inhaling the aroma of the warm milk before taking a long swallow. Then he continued, "Everyone gets headaches, especially with a job as stressful as Sebastian's was, and it only makes sense that he would have them more even. There was no way you could've known."

It was true, too, but he could've done something. Kurt lived without many regrets in his life, but this was one he would take to the grave.

"I know, David, but I can't help but wish. I was looking forward to arguing with my husband about drinking too much wine before bed, in some far-distant future where we were all old and wrinkly and couldn't even have sex any more because, well, _ew_. I was looking forward to our life together after we finally got married because it's something I've always dreamed about that for us. I was looking forward to growing old with the man I loved unconditionally, tracing the lines on his face that told the story of all his arrogant smirks and cocky grins and genuine smiles. I wish that we could have that all that."

David turned to him, honey brown eyes bloodshot but still intense, and said, "I wish you could have. But you don't, and you need to make the most of it while you still can. You need to do all that lovey-dovey shit now, because you won't get another chance, and you'll only regret it if you don't. Make his last days worth it, even if you just lie there in bed and forget the world."

Kurt laughed quietly and asked, "Did you get that from a song?"

David smiled and admitted, "Maybe. I'm not good at all this crap."

Kurt took a sip of his milk and sighed. "I know. I love you David Karofsky."

"Love you too, Fancy," David replied, and did not leave until Sebastian woke the next morning.

–

Five  
_Acceptance_

–

"I love you," whispered Kurt against Sebastian's collarbone.

He had gotten so gaunt, so thin, but he was still the beautiful specimen of male that Kurt had fallen in love with. It was almost strange how frail he looked, and it almost made him more beautiful as if his impending death and shadowed a sort of gentle fragility over him. It was still a stark contrast to Sebastian's usual physique of lean perfection, a strength that had helped his body last for a month longer than projected, and that scared Kurt.

Regardless, even without vows, Kurt would be by his side through sick and through health.

"I...love you too...more than you could...ever know," Sebastian breathed against Kurt's hair, his words slow to come out due to weakness and fatigue.

Sebastian had finally been admitted to hospital the night previous, and wasn't expected to last through another. Kurt hadn't cried once since calling the ambulance, because despite the pain and the desperation to hold onto Sebastian just a little while longer, he had known it was going to happen. He had known that this outcome was inevitable and there was nothing he could do to postpone it any more than he already had.

Sebastian's time had come.

"D'you...remember when we were younger...and we went to Scandals with...with Blaine for the first time...d'you remember what you...were wearing? I couldn't even...figure out what it was...a cape or a sweater or...something."

Kurt laughed, and if it was a bit wet it wasn't mentioned. Sebastian was barely conscious, and Kurt didn't want to cry in front of Sebastian any more than he already had. He had to be strong for him, because he couldn't be weak in front of the dying man that was surely more terrified than he was. Amusement covering up his fear and melancholy, he answered quietly, "Oh God, how do you remember that? _I_ don't even remember that night except that Blaine and how I wanted to rip your head off."

"It was...sleeveless and black...long, sort of billowed around you..." His once arrogant and smooth voice had faded to all but a whisper. Kurt sincerely doubted he would be able to sing another note, at least in his usual powerful timbre, and that should've been a sin against humanity.

"Maybe a blazer or maybe even a long capelette. I wish I could remember," murmured Kurt truthfully. He only remembered Sebastian being an arse and what Blaine had done and how _angry_ he had been at that moment seeing those two dance together, not what his outfit was. He was thirty-two-years old, and had probably worn a good five _thousand_ different outfits since Sebastian and Kurt had gotten together thirteen years previous, so how was he supposed to remember an outfit that he had only worn once?

Still, Sebastian remembering something like that was remarkable, especially in his current state. They had been bitter rivals then, so for him to remember what _Kurt_ was wearing so long ago when his focus had been on Blaine...it was flattering almost. To know that Sebastian had noticed him despite their rivalry over Blaine Anderson, a man that neither one of them had seen or spoken to in a good eight years.

"It was...so fucking girly...I wanted to tease y...tease you about it, but I...figured the Shirley Temple...with extra cherries...was enough."

Kurt laughed again, and this time he couldn't ignore the wet sound of it. He blinked rapidly to get rid of the beginning of tears, even though Sebastian's eyes were almost closed due to tiredness and out of focus, and said, "It was infuriating, true, but I was more bent out of shape about your ruthlessness with getting Blaine in your bed."

"You...were just hiding your...true attraction to me," Sebastian whispered, and his lips curved upwards just slightly as those cloudy green eyes tried to focus on Kurt's face. He eventually gave up, the fatigue getting to him, and those green eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering against his pale, sallow cheek.

"Oh you know it. All this time I have been harbouring my true feelings for you. Blaine was just a warm body and romantic to me. What I really wanted was a true man like you, right?"

The laugh that Sebastian gave was almost just an exhale of air, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement. "Most...definitely," Sebastian responded, just as weak as the laugh itself, and then he grimaced in pain as he tried to adjust his body. Kurt helped him manoeuvre into another position, Sebastian too weak to do it himself, and when Sebastian finally settled down and his face relaxed with Kurt still curled up beside him in that hospital bed, he continued more seriously, "I wish...I would've _seen_ you then. Really..._seen_ you. We...would have...had more time."

Kurt felt his body shudder almost violently, and he clenched his eyes and mouth shut as tightly as possible because it hurt so _badly_ to hear that and he _wasn't_ going to cry. He _wasn't_.

"Oh _mon_ _amour_," he sighed, breath ghosting across Sebastian's collar bone, "I'll never have enough time with you, even if we could have lived together forever, but what you have given me has been the most perfect time of my life and I'm so thankful that I got to spend every moment of it with you."

A tear slowly crept down Sebastian's gaunt cheek and Kurt brushed it away gently. "_I love you_," Sebastian said again, so softly that Kurt _felt_ it more in the light vibration of his chest than heard it with his ears, and Sebastian's hand grasped his own in a grip that must've taken the last of his strength to accomplish.

Then the heart monitor flat-lined.

And two people died.

Kurt walked out of Sebastian's hospital room.

His body was numb, and his heart was nothing more than a heavy thud in his body, and he found his way into his father's arms.

"At least there wasn't a child," he said, and then he broke down and wept until there was nothing left to mourn.

They had never married.

–

_Like a rainbow  
Fading in the twinkling of an eye  
Gone too soon._

_Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight  
Here one day,  
Gone one night._

_Like a sunset  
Dying with the rising of the moon  
Gone too soon._

–


End file.
